


Quelle Est Cette Passion?

by VintageManniqueen



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageManniqueen/pseuds/VintageManniqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is this "love?" Short one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quelle Est Cette Passion?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not making any money off this, trust me.

There was neither rhyme nor reason to how she felt.  _Felt?_

She had previously thought herself immune to such blatantly inferior qualities as real emotion.

Years,  _centuries_  spent in the cities of romance and sex failed her. One fondly kept pet after another did not produce within her long-dead body the riotous revelry of nauseating attachment to such a… lesser life form.

She'd had no idea vampires could be physically nauseated.

Sophie-Anne felt so alive, so utterly human. She had always had such a passion for the second chance at life she'd received, but this blonde, beautiful, dumb, country girl pulled from the depths of her being such things that she had not experienced even in her human life, let alone the hundreds of years she had been a stoic and fierce leader of a dark subculture.

Perfectly painted lips wrapped around the top of a (now) vintage fountain pen, a cherished relic she had carried with her since the age of the dawn of the modern America as we know it, a time when women still wore dresses and men were away at war in Europe, a time she could get away with leaving her lipstick stains on the gently bloodied collars of beautiful women.

She could not think, she could not  _do._ She simply sat idle, staring into the designs of the perfumed stationary lying blank on the desk before her. It was simply too much.

" _What is this 'love_ '?" she scribbled across the page in large, loopy, frantic letters as a drop of red magic splattered uninhibitedly onto the delicate paper.


End file.
